


The Secret of the Secret Santa

by notcrypticbutcoy



Series: All I Want For Christmas Is You [5]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Malec, Minor Angst, Mutual Pining, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 07:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17137982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcrypticbutcoy/pseuds/notcrypticbutcoy
Summary: As busy doctors with busy schedules, Magnus and Alec have danced around their feelings for each other for years, much to the chagrin of their friends. This Christmas, Simon decides it’s time for an intervention-in the form of a shamelessly rigged secret santa.Or: In which Simon rigs the secret santa, Magnus and Alec flirt over nerdy doctor things, and are both a little bit oblivious.





	The Secret of the Secret Santa

**Author's Note:**

> This was first posted as part of a 2018 Shadowhunters Advent Calendar of fics, so some of you may have read it before.
> 
> Many thanks to [Taupe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taupefox59) for beta-ing!

Despite how unfailingly miserable Christmases had been for Magnus as a child, there were few things in the world that could set him spinning with glee like the commencement of the holiday season.

December the first had brought with it a chilling flurry of snow that settled in his hair and crunched beneath his boots as he dashed from the subway station and up the steps to Simon and Isabelle’s apartment, hands tucked deep in his pockets to combat the frigid winter air.

Magnus had barely finished knocking when the door was flung open by a grinning, tipsy Jace.

“Magnus!” he hollered, throwing one arm up in the air and nearly smacking Raphael in the face with his eggnog. “You made it! You’re late, but you made it!”

“Some of us have jobs,” Magnus said, and blew him a kiss when Jace scowled at him.

“I can’t help being laid off. It kind of sucked, you know.”

“It’s Christmas, Jace!” came Isabelle’s voice. “No sulking allowed!”

“I don’t wanna have some hotshot lawyer for a friend anymore,” Jace muttered. “I feel inadequate.”

Magnus watched in mild amusement as Jace sulked off towards Clary, who laughed at him, but pressed a sympathetic kiss to his cheek anyway.

Beside him, Ragnor leant up against the wall, surveying the chaos of Simon and Isabelle’s apartment. Their friends couldn’t have been there for more than an hour, but already, Magnus didn’t envy whoever ended up clearing up after them all.

It would be Alec. It always was.

“Do you think he remembers that I’m the lawyer, not you?” Ragnor asked, tilting his head to one side, the slight twitch at the corner of his lips the only indication that he was amused, not insulted.

“No way.” Magnus grinned. “Besides, he got halfway there.”

Ragnor arched an eyebrow. “Magnus, you analyse dead people.”

“But I am a hotshot.”

From across the room, Raphael managed to roll his eyes with identical despair to Ragnor. Magnus frequently wondered how he’d ended up with two such absolute assholes as his best friends. They had no appreciation for his excellence.

“Cocktail?” Simon asked, appearing before them with a harried expression on his face. “I’m trying to convince Iz that she can make cocktails but that she should leave the cooking to me, so please, even if it’s gross, pretend it’s not.”

Magnus plucked a cocktail from Simon’s grip, tipped the glass in his direction with a quick prayer to the plethora of deities he’d never believed in, and took a swig.

He didn’t drop down dead, so he counted that as an improvement.

“It’s not bad,” Magnus said, and lifted the glass to his lips again.

Simon relaxed visibly, anxiety seeping from his face, and he sighed. “Great. Thanks, man.”

He unloaded another cocktail onto Ragnor, and then turned to go back to the kitchen, where Magnus could hear Isabelle humming slightly off-key to Mariah Carey.

“Hey, Simon?”

Simon pushed his glasses up his nose. “Yeah?”

“Alec not here yet?”

“Alec?”

Simon’s eyes did an odd flicker over to Ragnor, who, when Magnus glanced at him, looked determinedly away. Unfortunately, his gaze landed on where Jace and Clary were trying to dance to the music floating through the apartment; Magnus wasn’t fooled.

“Uh, yeah, Alec’s here,” Simon said. “Got here about ten minutes before you did. Why?”

Magnus shrugged. “No reason. Just wondering whether anyone was joining Catarina in Scrooge Land.”

It was a terrible cover-up (because, really, _Scrooge Land_? Even if the place in question weren’t a paediatrics ward, that would have been poor) but neither Simon nor Ragnor commented on it. Perhaps Magnus was stealthier than he thought. Or they’d had more to drink than they let on.

“He’s outside. Got a call from his boss.”

“Ah.” Magnus smiled. “Of course.”

Had he really walked right past Alec on his way up and not noticed? Did that count as progress? Did he want it to be progress? Was his losing the hyper-awareness he always seemed to have when around Alec? Was he—

“On the balcony,” Simon added.

Of course not.

“He’ll be glad to see you,” Jace called from over the top of Clary’s head, shameless in his eavesdropping. “He was having an argument with Iz about brains that none of us understood and he wanted support.”

Magnus’ lips twitched. “He only gets support if he’s right, you know.”

He pointedly ignored the way Simon and Ragnor exchanged another _look_. Even if he was delusional, he was determined to believe that he was subtle in his emotions. He didn’t need his friends obsessing over them. He was an adult.

***

“You absolute child, Magnus!” Isabelle shouted three hours later, waving a glass of eggnog in the air until it sloshed dangerously over the Monopoly board. “Cheat!”

“Being talented isn’t cheating, thank you,” Magnus said primly as he collected his money, having succeeded in making everyone present bankrupt, except Ragnor, who sat across from him with grim determination set into his face.

Of course, his lack of humility only came back to bite him in the ass five minutes later, when Ragnor crowed jubilantly as Magnus landed on his most expensive property.

“Pay up, Bane!”

“Dick,” Magnus told him petulantly.

“What was that about being talented?” Alec asked from where he was lounging on the floor, arms slung casually over bent knees with a beer bottle held loosely by its neck between long slender fingers.

Alexander was unfairly beautiful. He had been the first day Magnus had met him, when Isabelle had thrown a party for all the suffering, debt-ridden medical students at university. They’d spent most of the night discussing the latest research being conducted into misfolding proteins and neurodegenerative diseases, because medical students were so often incapable of turning off. Magnus had spent the entirety of the conversation desperately trying to remember how to construct a coherent sentence when in the presence of such a gorgeous man.

The party was simultaneously Magnus’ favourite and most hated memory. His favourite, because he’d met Alec, and his most hated, because he’d met Alec’s boyfriend.

(Alec’s boyfriend had been nice, too. Nice, and clever, and the sort of handsome that made he and Alec look like a celebrity couple when they stood together. It had been awful. Even if they did end up parting ways, amiably and with grace. Magnus hated them both for their damn perfectness.)

“Shut your mouth,” Magnus told Alec, now, pointing a finger at him. “This is a minor setback. I’m going to win. You’re going down, Fell.”

When Magnus lost, he blamed it on having drunk more than Ragnor. In fact, it was Alec’s fault. He’d become incapable of making a sensible decision. Anybody would, with those hazel eyes sparkling and those lips curled into a grin, fingers fidgeting and gesturing every time he made some snarky, stupid little comment that made Magnus want to smack him and then kiss him.

“Alright!” Simon clapped his hands together. “It’s Secret Santa time! I’ve done the names, and Raphael checked to make sure I haven’t cheated, so no fussing about whoever you get. Got it, Jace?”

Jace held up his hands. “Look, just because Ragnor is impossible to buy for—”

“You are, that’s true,” Magnus said, patting Ragnor’s arm and receiving a glare in return.

Simon fixed Jace with a stern look. “Zip it, Herondale. Pick a name.”

Jace dug his hand into the box Simon held out, plucked out a folded piece of paper, and glanced at it. His lips twitched as he did, and he met Simon’s gaze with an odd sort of look flickering in his eyes.

When Magnus pulled out a name, he felt his heart clench at the name written in messy, uneven handwriting. He forced himself not to look up, or give himself away, but his mind reeled with a sudden rush of possibilities.

Shit, he needed to get himself under control.

Only when Simon had moved onto Ragnor did Magnus dare look up. He couldn’t help staring at Alexander while he picked out a name: at the handsome angles of his face, the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the way his hair curled over his forehead at the front in a way that enticed Magnus to run his fingers through it.

Alec huffed out a little laugh when he looked at the name on his paper, and, unbidden, Magnus felt himself smile. Isabelle, then. He’d only ever seen Alec look that particular brand of fond when his sister was involved.

(Well. Jace too, but Alec had had Jace last year, and that was one of their rules—they couldn’t have the same person two years in a row.)

“All settled?” Simon asked, quirking an eyebrow, and they all nodded dutifully at him. “Excellent. Nobody’s working on Christmas Eve, are they?”

“I am,” Magnus said. “And Christmas Day. People don’t stop dying just because Jesus said so.”

There was a faint murmur of sympathy, but Magnus didn’t really mind. He wasn’t religious, so Christmas was just a day—really, it didn’t matter whether he ate copious quantities of food, exchanged presents and got pleasantly buzzed with all the people he loved a day later than he was supposed to.

“Presents on the 26th, then. Sorry to send you all to Maryse without a hangover,” Simon added to the Lightwoods, with a grin, and then frowned. “Shit. That’s me too. Clary, please pass me the eggnog.”

“I relate,” Clary told him seriously. “Maryse hates me.”

“No, babe, Robert hates you,” Jace said, squeezing her in a way that was probably supposed to be comforting. “Not that it matters, because he’s not gonna be here this year. Just Luke.”

As the conversation around him dissolved into chatter, Magnus curled his hand loosely around the piece of paper with Alexander’s name written on it, and tried his best not to lapse into daydreams about what he could get the man he’d been halfway to in love with for the last seven years.

***

Later that night, after Simon had ushered Alec out with a huff, telling him that they were capable of clearing up themselves, Isabelle sat back against the countertop, sipping a mug of tea, with a smirk tugging up the corners of her lips.

“Do you think they suspected anything?” Simon asked, tossing a handful of beer cans in the bin and glancing over his shoulder at his fiancée.

“Nope.” Isabelle grinned. “We did good, babe.”

“We always do.”

“It’s about time those two idiots got their act together. You know, I once told Alec, outright, that Magnus clearly felt the same way he does, and he thought I was deluded.”

Simon shook his head. “Do you think it’s bad to mess with their lives like this?”

Isabelle arched an eyebrow at him. “This was your idea, and it was perfect because all we did was ensure they’d be buying each other Christmas presents. That hardly counts as messing. Just a little nudge. It’s still completely up to them what they do. They could buy each other something boring. It’s just an opportunity.”

“Well, let’s see if it works,” Simon said, feeling a little doubtful. After all, how could something as simple as a Christmas present fix seven years of outright denial?

***

However many years he spent there, Magnus would never hold anything but disdain for the smell of hospitals. Especially the pathology departments. He’d have thought someone would invent some sort of nasal blocker so that all the doctors and technicians didn’t have to suffer the unmistakable stench of dead things.

“Morning, Doctor Bane!”

Magnus smiled over at the array of first year residents scattered around the mortuary, looking thrilled in a way that Magnus was sure most of the population would find a brand of weird that bordered on disturbing. They were a good bunch.

“Good morning,” he said. “Autopsy right after lunch?”

“Apparently it’s a good one.”

Magnus grinned. “Have fun.”

When Magnus reached his office, he sunk down into his chair and shot off a quick email, before pulling out the lunch he’d grabbed in the canteen. He could spare ten minutes for arguably the most important phone call of his week.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite doctor.”

Magnus smirked. “Don’t let your brother hear that, darling.”

“Oh, he’s well aware,” Isabelle said, with a light, loose laugh. “How can I help you? I have ten minutes before I’ve got to argue with my colleague about why we can’t send a first year resident out to a murder scene alone.”

“It won’t take long,” Magnus promised her, internally glad that he’d chosen to specialise in neuropathology, where he didn’t spend his days staring down at murder victims spliced out on his table. “I have a conundrum.”

“Tell me more.”

“I pulled out your brother’s name for our Secret Santa this year, and I’ve got no idea what to get him.”

“Oh! Well, that’s easy. He was desperate for new sheet music, and—”

“Not Jace. Alexander.”

Isabelle fell quiet for a moment. “Oh. Right. That’s... I can’t help you there, Magnus.”

“What?” Magnus pulled a face. “What are you talking about? Why not?”

“He’ll know it was my idea if I do,” Isabelle said, far too quickly, and Magnus frowned. Isabelle loved buying people Christmas presents, and she usually jumped at the opportunity to help out when someone else was stuck. Especially if it involved her brothers. Why on earth was she behaving so strangely? “Look, Magnus, you know Alec as well as anyone. You call him Alexander and he doesn’t punch you in the face. You can think of a Christmas present.”

“Isabelle—”

“I’m really sorry I can’t be more help. I have to go.”

And she hung up. Magnus pulled his phone away from his ear slowly, and stared at the screen in sheer confusion. What the hell had that been about? Isabelle tended to be the most helpful person Magnus knew when confronted with this particular brand of crisis.

Exhaling, Magnus shook his head and set his phone down. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, no matter how bewildered he was. He had things to do that didn’t involve the most gorgeous man he’d ever laid eyes on.

***

As much as Magnus tended to adore the holiday season, he despised Christmas shopping. Not because of the shopping itself, but because of the inane, dawdling people lingering around shop windows, staring and gaping at things they would never buy and holding up the entire street.

He still hadn’t decided what to buy Alexander. Part of him wanted to buy something deep and meaningful, something that Alec would remember and love, but that felt like too much of a risk. He didn’t particularly want to inadvertently reveal his feelings. There was that cliché about not wanting to ruin their friendship, of course, but mostly just because he knew that Alec didn’t feel the same way. Jace had been complaining about Alec waxing poetic about some guy he’d got coffee with only a few days ago. Magnus wasn’t going to set himself up for heartbreak. He wasn’t _that_ masochistic.

Sidestepping a large group of tourists watching an animated window display with wide, excited eyes, hats pulled snug over their ears to combat the frigid wind, Magnus pushed open the door to the first shop on his list. He wasn’t necessarily expecting to find Alec’s present in a homeware store, but he had to start somewhere.

He’d been looking at inspirational quotes to hang on the wall, with a growing sense of despair, for only a few minutes when he heard someone call his name from across the shop.

“Magnus! Hey!”

Magnus turned in surprise, eyes widening when he saw Alec tugging his gloves off by the door, snow dusting the sharp black of his hair. A blue scarf curled around his throat, cheeks and nose pink with cold, and—

Well. Frankly, Magnus wanted to walk over and press kisses to every inch of his stupid, adorable face. Not that there was anything unusual about that. Alexander had evoked that reaction from him (intermittently, when he was single) since the day they met.

“Hello, darling,” Magnus said, smiling graciously in, he thought, a suave manner that managed to cover any undesirable feelings he might have had. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Alec slipped his gloves into his pockets as he made his way over, and tugged his fingers through his hair lazily, shaking melting snow onto the shop floor.

“I saw you from outside,” Alec said. “You looked like I do after another parent insists that herbal remedies will magically cure their kid’s schizophrenia.”

Magnus grinned. “One of those days, huh?”

The face Alec pulled said everything. “It might have been. Christmas shopping?”

“I’m clearly not in the right mindset,” Magnus admitted. “I’ve been here for ten minutes and I can tell that I’m not going to find what I need.”

“Was there something specific you were looking for?”

Magnus shot Alec a sideways glance, wondering whether Alec knew, or suspected, or whether he was merely being his usual helpful self.

“I can’t decide what to buy my secret santa,” Magnus admitted, “and I need to find something for my mother.”

Amusement passed across Alec’s face. “Well, rather than searching in here, why don’t we get a coffee and we can brainstorm?”

They ended up buying their coffees to go, rather than sitting in the overcrowded Starbucks on the corner of the street, and began a meandering walk along some of the quieter streets of New York. Almost inevitably, their conversation quickly dissolved into discussions about work, because despite what he’d always promised himself, Magnus had become one of those doctors who just couldn’t goddamn turn off.

A peaceful quietude fell between them as they slowed to a stop in Central Park, snow beginning to float down and settle in thick, fluffy blankets. It settled in Alec’s hair and on the tips of his eyelashes, and, despite how beautiful the city looked covered in snow, for once clean and crisp, Magnus couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man beside him.

“I love the snow,” Alec murmured, gazing out across the park with a smile curling at his lips. It widened momentarily, and Magnus followed his gaze to where two children were squealing and laughing as their father chased them around.

Magnus looked back to Alexander, curling his fingers tighter around his coffee cup as he took in the rosy profile of his face. “Mm?”

“I had this snow globe when I was little that my parents bought me, with two little figurines skating across a lake. I loved it to pieces.”

“What happened to it?”

Alec dropped his gaze to his coffee, laughing sheepishly, and said, “I, ah. I smashed it against a wall after I came out to my dad.”

“Hmm.” Magnus smiled at him. “I imagine Robert would have that effect on a lot of people.”

That startled a laugh out of Alec, bright and unexpected, and Magnus’ breath caught when Alec looked over at him with warm hazel eyes and an easy, lopsided smile that exposed his teeth.

“You’re right,” Alec agreed, nodding. “He does. Took me a fucking long time to realise that, but thirty year old me is much happier than the repressed asshole who smashed that snow globe.”

“Alexander.”

Alec glanced over at him. “Yeah?”

Conspiratorially, Magnus leant closer. “You’re thirty-two.”

Alec rolled his eyes and smacked Magnus’ shoulder, lips twitching in his effort not to grin while Magnus laughed, far too pleased with himself for something so stupid.

“Alright, you know what? Shut up, _Magnus_.”

Magnus raised his eyebrows. “Or what, Lightwood?”

“Or I’m gonna dump snow in your hair.”

Magnus gasped in mock horror. “You wouldn’t.”

Apparently, Alec would, because, a moment later, Magnus was swearing as frigid wet snow slid down his cheeks and over his neck, while Alec laughed hysterically from several metres away like the absolute sadist he was.

“Oh, it’s on,” Magnus said, narrowing his eyes as he bent to pick up a handful of snow and fashion it into a ball to throw at Alec in retaliation.

Alec’s eyes sparkled from across the park, and it was almost enough for Magnus for forgive him.

“Prepare yourself for defeat, Bane.”

Almost.

***

When the two of them had exhausted themselves laughing, cheeks warm and hair wet with snow, Magnus called a truce, and invited Alec back to his apartment for coffee. Because, as preposterous as it was, he couldn’t remember the last time they’d spent time hanging out together, with just the two of them. And, as much as he adored the rest of their friends, Alexander had, unwittingly, carved out a special place for himself in Magnus’ heart a very long time ago.

“I can’t remember the last time I was here,” Alec said, looking around with vague interest in his eyes as Magnus pushed open the door and began to unwrap the multitude of layers he had on. “Did you redecorate?”

Magnus spared his loft a brief look, and winced internally at the state of it. Things had managed to get everywhere. Books lay sprawled open at odd angles on the sleek wooden coffee table around a notebook crammed with Magnus’ looping, messy cursive. He’d left his laptop to charge on his favourite armchair beside several empty mugs, and, through the doorway, he could see that his kitchen resembled that of most nineteen year old students’, littered with takeaway boxes and the remains of the breakfast he’d abandoned halfway through.

“A couple of times,” Magnus said, watching from the corner of his eye as Alec put his boots neatly beside Magnus’ and walked over to Magnus’ bookcase.

Between books organised in a manner only Magnus would ever understand, Magnus had attempted to make the shelves look more decorative with the addition of plants he’d struggled to keep alive, trinkets and ornaments Ragnor and Catarina had bought him over the years, and—

“You have _vinyls_.”

Alec’s eyes widened, and he reached out to touch the well-worn slips and covers with a sort of reverence that made Magnus duck his head to hide a smile. He pressed his fingers along the edge of one, and grinned when he pulled it out to see the front.

“Queen?”

“Innuendo was the first album I ever had,” Magnus said, with a slight shrug of nostalgia. “My mother bought it for me when I was a kid. She loved music. All these albums became one of my greatest comforts, especially when I was in high school. High school was shit.”

A soft smile graced Alec’s lips. They’d talked about their equally crap experiences at high school before. “That’s really nice. So it’s original?”

“Yes, original. Most of them are. I cheated with some of them, though. Bought them on eBay. Like my Bowie ones.”

Alec grinned. “Are you saying that all this time you’ve been a _fake_ Bowie fan?”

“It’s not my fault I wasn’t born when he was first strutting about being an absolute legend!”

“Fake fan, Magnus,” Alec teased him. “Why haven’t I seen all these before?”

“I was keeping those all in my wardrobe out of embarrassment, but now they’re the in thing...”

Alec laughed, letting the vinyl slide back into place and taking two steps with those ridiculously long legs of his to close to gap between them.

“Careful,” he said, voice low and eyes bright, mouth curling up at one corner in that impossibly tempting way it sometimes did. “You’re in danger of sounding old.”

Magnus gasped, hand shooting to cover his heart. “Alexander! I don’t expect this rudeness from you.”

“One more birthday and you’ll be grumbling about kids and wishing for the good old days and wondering why everybody’s suddenly speaking so quietly.”

The grin that stretched its way across Alec’s face as he spoke simultaneously outraged and endeared Magnus, and he had to smack his arm lightly and turn away towards the kitchen before the sight of him stole the breath from Magnus’ lungs.

Maybe he’d discovered a new illness. Alexander-itis. Symptoms included heart palpitations, sweaty palms, flushed cheeks and bouts of inexplicable nervousness, all while within five metres of one Alexander Lightwood.

Or possibly he was just going, as the song went, slightly mad.

“Do you want a drink?” Magnus called, striding into his kitchen and flicking on the kettle with a grace he felt sure didn’t match the utter mess that surrounded him.

“Could I have a coffee, please?”

“Coming up. Make yourself at home. Feel free to move my junk.”

When Alec’s voice came floating through, it sounded reproachful. “This isn’t junk, it’s a research paper. I didn’t know you were writing a research paper.”

Magnus paused. “Ah. No. Nobody does, actually. Well, nobody I know personally. Just some colleagues, and my boss, and a few students.”

Alec made a humming noise, and then said, “Will you send me a copy when you’re done?”

“I didn’t know you were interested in that sort of thing.”

“You wrote it. Therefore I’m interested.”

Magnus blamed the way his heart stuttered and thudded and fluttered in his ribcage like a trapped, frantic bird. The culprit had to be Alexander-itis. There was no other explanation. Being in the presence of a Lightwood with such a stupidly nice name to match such a stupidly nice face and a stupidly nice personality caused cardiovascular problems. Everyone suffered. Not just Magnus.

(Deep down, Magnus was all too aware of his own denial, but he’d been perfectly happy deluding himself for the last seven years. He didn’t plan on causing anyone else awkwardness or himself heartache just because he’d picked Alec’s name in a damn secret santa draw.)

“Coffee,” he said instead, stirring sugar into his own mug and then spinning on his heel to deliver Alec’s to him. If their fingers brushed together when Magnus handed over the mug, it was Alec’s fault, and it absolutely did not make Magnus’ skin tingle with hyper-awareness.

“Thanks.”

They fell quiet, and Alec ducked his head to blow across the steaming liquid in his mug, eyelashes lowering until they nearly brushed his cheekbones as he took a careful sip. His long fingers were wrapped elegantly around the rim, ignoring the handle because he always complained that they were too small for his hands.

When Magnus had first met Alec, he’d thought there was something a little deer-like about Alec, with his long limbs and soft hazel eyes and slight skittishness when confronted with anything emotional, still in the process of throwing off the shackles of his repressed teenage years.

Now, matured and wiser and, in Magnus’ unbiased opinion, more lovely, if he were to make any deer comparisons, the only appropriate one would be to a stag: proud and elegant and strong, unashamed in himself and quietly confident in his abilities.

“So,” Alec said, “your secret santa. Who did you get?”

Magnus laughed in an attempt to play it off, and waved his hand aimlessly. “I can’t tell you that, darling. That would be breaking the rules.”

Alec scowled. “Stupid rules. Screw them.”

Chuckling, Magnus shook his head. “You know, I’m more concerned about not finding anything for my mom. She’ll be upset if I half-ass something out of panic three days before Christmas. And I’m seeing her on Christmas Eve, so I have even less time, and I’m taking Ragnor with me, so he’s bound to show me up and make me look bad.”

Alec smiled at him over the rim of his mug in clear amusement. “Your mom adores you. Whatever you get her, she’ll appreciate it.”

“Don’t be so reasonable, Alexander, it’s not attractive.” Magnus rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, and Alec grinned widely enough to make the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way that was far too adorable for Magnus to cope with.

Magnus suggested that they sit down, and was granted the opportunity to watch Alec fold up all his stupidly long limbs and settle against the cushions with a hum.

“I went on a date the other night,” Alec said conversationally, and Magnus ignored the twisting pain in his heart in order to let out an inquisitive hum. “It was a fucking disaster.”

“Oh dear.” Magnus frowned sympathetically, internally relieved that he didn’t have to listen to Alec wax lyrical about some doubtless accomplished, handsome man. “Want to talk about it?”

“We met online. I think the photos on his profile must have been from upwards of ten years ago, which wasn’t a great start, and then he had to leave after fifteen minutes to have a cigarette, and he kept swearing in a way that would put Jace to shame, and he was rude to the waiter, and to be honest, he was the most boring, self-centred guy I’ve ever met.”

Magnus raised his eyebrows at Alec’s rant, a little concerned by the way he stared determinedly down at his hands, breathing heavily. He let Alec sit for a few moments, waiting to see if he would say anything else. When he didn’t, he set his hand gently on Alec’s knee.

“Are you alright?”

A sigh escaped Alec, and his shoulders slumped a little, eyes fluttering closed for a handful of seconds before he opened them again. He didn’t look at Magnus, instead keeping his gaze on his coffee.

“I just... It’s stupid. Really.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Magnus told him. He moved his hand back to his own mug, not wanting to seem weird. “If you want to talk, you can. But you don’t have to.”

“I’m thirty-two. And as naïve as it sounds, I always thought I’d have met someone by now. In my head, by the time I was in my thirties, I was getting married, or in a relationship that was really going somewhere, or even thinking about kids, or—” He stopped, exhaling a short breath of frustration. “I’m worried that I’ve been too focused on my career, and not focused enough on other things that are important.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” Magnus said. “You have plenty of friends. You date. You’ve had boyfriends. It’s not your fault that things haven’t worked out.”

“Isn’t it?” Alec asked, looking up at Magnus with a rare vulnerability in his eyes. “I– Sometimes I feel like it might be. My sister is getting married, my brother is married, what seems like most of my colleagues who are my age have kids... I don’t know. Maybe I’m being stupid.”

“No, you’re not. I understand. A long-term relationship doesn’t exactly look like it’s in my near future, either. I don’t know when you’ll find the right person, but I do know that anybody would be lucky to have you.”

Alec smiled faintly. “Thanks, Magnus. Ditto.”

“My plethora of exes clearly don’t agree with that,” Magnus said, grinning in humorous self-deprecation.

Alec shrugged. “Their loss.”

“I’d drink to that, but I’m not sure it counts when the drink is coffee.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Caffeine, alcohol—just as good.”

Magnus laughed as they clicked their mugs together, and, because being around Alec made him forget himself, he said, “I’ve missed doing this.”

Surprise flitted across Alec’s face. “Me too. Don’t get me wrong, I love getting together with everyone, but sometimes it’s nice doing things like this.”

“Mm. It is. Shall I ruin it now, and put on Christmas music?”

Alec sighed, pretending to be put-out. “If you have to. I suppose it won’t make me storm out in fury. I’ll tolerate it.”

Magnus rose from the sofa to turn on his speakers, and, from the corner of his eye, caught Alec watching him with an odd sort of expression on his face that Magnus desperately wanted to understand.

***

“So you don’t think it’s too much?”

Ragnor stared down at where Alec’s Christmas present sat cushioned in red tissue paper for a long beat, and then slowly up at Magnus with a blank expression on his face. He blinked. Magnus twisted the ring on his index finger around half a dozen times, restless with anxiety.

Over a stupid Christmas present.

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal,” Ragnor said. “I don’t even know who it’s for, so I can’t really help you.”

Magnus huffed in frustration. “For once, can you just give me some advice without all the snark? It’s for my secret santa.”

Ragnor shrugged in a decidedly unhelpful manner. “It looks lovely, Magnus. What would you like me to say? Is there some special meaning behind it?”

“No,” Magnus said, and then groaned, pressing one hand against his forehead. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Well.” Ragnor arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure you can understand why I’m struggling to be helpful.”

“It’s...” A breath escaped him, and he felt his shoulders sag as he cast his eyes down to deliver his confession. “It’s for Alec. I pulled his name out of the hat. And it’s...a bit personal. But not too personal, I don’t think. But I’m sure he’ll know it’s from me, and I don’t...”

“Magnus.”

Ragnor’s voice turned gentle. A hand came down on Magnus’ shoulder, warm and firm and reassuring, and Magnus let himself be steered towards the sofa and pushed down onto the cushions where, a mere week ago, he’d sat with Alexander, fingertips still cold from messing around in the snow like children.

“You know, don’t you?” Magnus asked, looking up at his oldest friend.

“Yes, I know,” Ragnor said, and Magnus closed his eyes in relief. He didn’t want to have to say it out loud. It sounded too desperately pathetic. “It’s okay, you know. You’re allowed to have those sorts of feelings.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Yeah, maybe, but not for this long. This is just ridiculous.”

“Perhaps.” Ragnor sat down on the sofa beside him. Magnus refused to look over and meet his gaze. “But it’s not like you’ve been pining after him for seven years. I think he’d have noticed by now if you were. You’ve dated other people. You’ve had some long-term relationships. He’s just been—”

“That silly little crush simmering away in the background that you can never completely ignore, however much you try.” Magnus sighed. “That about sums it up.”

“Is there something you want to achieve with this present?” Ragnor asked gently.

“I’m not really sure. I– Yes, in the sense that I want him to- to know, or to get some idea, enough to chase me up on it on the minuscule chance he feels anything in return, but not enough to make things awkward when inevitably he doesn’t. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense,” Ragnor told him, with a soft smile. “Keep in mind that you see everything but yourself really quite clearly. There might be...obvious things that you’ve overlooked.”

Magnus squinted one eye at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Ragnor shook his head. “Nothing. Just give him the present. I don’t know what it means, but I’m sure it’s more than fine.”

“You’re being unhelpful again.”

“Oh, I know.” Ragnor patted his knee. “Now, let me ask you why you’re so convinced that your feelings are unrequited. You usually assume the opposite.”

“I’m choosing to let that go,” Magnus told him, with a sharp glare. He exhaled, dropping the act, and shook his head in resignation. “Honestly, because I’ve made it obvious. When we first met, that first night, I didn’t know he had a boyfriend, so I flirted with him. And I flirted with him again after they broke up. I even drunk called him once. To this day I have no idea what I said.” He chuckled ruefully. “It has to have been obvious.”

Ragnor hummed thoughtfully. “So why not lay it to rest?”

“Because I can’t be sure he knows if I don’t tell him. He once asked me whether a barista had been hitting on him when the guy had written his number on the bottom of the cup.”

“But you’re not telling him. You’re giving him a cryptic Christmas present.”

Magnus couldn’t explain that. Some things were just...heavy. Some gifts made a person’s feelings blatantly obvious, for inexplicable, intangible reasons. This one would be like that. He knew it would be. And then Alexander would let him down gently, clearly this time, and Magnus would move on. Because, however many times he’d tried to in the past, he’d never been able to get rid of the niggling thought in the back of his mind that maybe, maybe, Alec returned his feelings. That maybe he should have been putting his heart on the line more. That maybe he should have _tried_. Just once.

He’d be rejected. Nicely. It would be awkward for a month. And then everything would be okay.

***

On Christmas Day, Magnus rose at the wonderful hour of six o’clock, made himself a coffee while mourning the fact that he wouldn’t be able to get one from his favourite coffee shop on the way to work, and headed out to the hospital.

The building was quieter than normal, and, just poking his head around his office door, Magnus could see that his day would be a little less intense than it would be normally, but he could also see the steadily growing pile of things that someone needed to do as soon as possible. Someone might as well have been him, as he was there.

The three residents who were in for the Christmas shift and under Magnus’ supervision were in admirably high spirits, considering the fact that they had to be at work on Christmas Day, and, by lunch time, Magnus had almost stopped regretting his career choice.

As Magnus was in the midst of discussing a post mortem with the residents, his phone rang. He glanced down at it, hands gloved and currently holding a human brain, and felt his lips twitch when he saw Alexander’s name.

“Aren’t you going to answer?” one of the residents asked, arching an eyebrow. Maia was possibly the cleverest resident Magnus had mentored, and she constantly worked her ass off.

“I’ll call back when I get lunch,” Magnus said, with a shake of his head. “We’re looking at Parkinson’s. That’s much more interesting.”

Aside from Maia, the residents looked unimpressed, but they said nothing on the topic for the next twenty minutes, as helpful and inquisitive as they always were about the examination.

“Alright.” Magnus snapped off his gloves. “I’m getting lunch. There are two biopsies oncology want someone to look at upstairs.”

“Are you going to call back now?” Maia asked with a cheeky, lopsided grin.

Magnus rolled his eyes, fighting back his smile. “If I am, that’s none of your business.”

“Partner?”

“Just a friend,” Magnus said, and jerked his head at the door. “Go on, get out of here.”

After stopping off in the doctor’s mess to grab himself a sandwich, Magnus picked up his coat from his office and took the stairs down so he could snatch a spot on the bench in the little grassy area behind their building to call Alexander back from.

Outside, a merry chill had settled across the city, thin flakes of snow falling slowly and scattering across the ground like icing sugar. Wind came in brief surges, and Magnus shivered, pulling his scarf tighter around his throat before tugging out his phone.

“Shut up!” he heard Alec holler, the moment the line connected. “Jace, zip it!”

Magnus’ lips quirked upwards. Judging by the lack of irritation in Alec’s lovely voice, Christmas with his mother and Luke was a significantly less awful affair than it had been when Robert still bothered to show his face during the holiday season.

“I’m sorry about that,” Alec said, lowering his voice to a normal level. “Jace and Simon were having a video game competition, and Iz decided to show them both up.”

“As I would expect,” Magnus said with a smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Nothing in particular. I just wanted to call and say merry Christmas, and that I hope work isn’t too shitty.”

“It’s tolerable,” Magnus said, crossing his legs one over the other and leaning back against the bench, looking out across the street. “One of my miserable old senior colleagues came in wearing Rudolph antlers, which might be the highlight of my entire career.”

Alec laughed. “Brilliant. You can say no, but Mom wants me to offer you some of our leftovers, because she assumed you wouldn’t have made yourself anything for when your shift ends. I could come over and give you whatever you want.”

“Oh.” Magnus blinked in pleased surprise. “That’s very kind of you, thank you. That would be wonderful. Are you sure?’

“I’m gonna get castrated if I say no,” Alec said, an Magnus heard a faint snigger in the background that undoubtedly came from Jace, followed by a protesting whine—presumably because Clary had told him off.

“I wouldn’t want that to happen,” Magnus teased. “I’ll text you when I leave, and you can come whenever you like. If you’re really sure. I feel very guilty stealing your food and making you take a trip across the city.”

“Magnus.” Alec sounded faintly amused. “It’s fine. It’s Christmas Day. I know you’ll see everyone and do Christmas tomorrow, but you should have some company that’s not a bunch of residents and craggy old men on Christmas Day.”

Magnus smiled to himself, more than a little touched by the sentiment. “Well, thank you.”

“Hey, did you ever find a present for your mother?”

“I did,” Magnus confirmed. “I saw her yesterday. She was very appreciative. Less appreciative of my inconveniently timed shift.”

“I’m sure you made it up to each other,” Alec said, because he was nice like that.

“We tried. I should probably head back now, but thank you for calling me.”

“You’re welcome, Magnus.”

***

By the time Magnus arrived home, exhaustion had crept into his bones, making his limbs ache and every molecule in his body crave a coffee. He collapsed through the door, kicked off his shoes without a care for where they landed, and headed into the kitchen, dropping layers as he went. He’d pick everything up later. When he could think straight.

Armed with a coffee and his book, he walked past the row of Christmas cards sitting along the mantelpiece and settled in his favourite armchair, letting himself sink down into the cushions.

Sleep had been the last thing on his mind, but he was awoken by the sound of his buzzer ringing, coffee mug half-empty and cold where it was clutched to his chest. He rolled his eyes at his own behaviour (honestly, he was thirty-two, not eighty-two) and hauled himself to his feet.

“Merry Christmas,” Alec said as Magnus opened the door, as deadpan as ever but with a slight curl to his lips. “I brought food.”

“You’re an angel,” Magnus told him, deadly serious as he stepped aside to let Alec in.

They made inconsequential, chatty conversation as Alec took the food into Magnus’ kitchen, unloading several Tupperware containers and warning Magnus that he couldn’t be held responsible for what would happen to him if Magnus ate the fruit cake Isabelle had made.

“It’s there,” Alec said, pointing to a slice of cake that had been notably positioned so that it didn’t touch anything else in the box. “Don’t eat it. Don’t let anyone eat it. Unless you hate them. Then it’s probably a fantastic offering.”

“Noted,” Magnus said, struggling not to grin out of loyalty to Isabelle.

Magnus loaded himself up a plate of food, because starving didn’t quite begin to cover how he felt, and told Alec that he was welcome to stay, but equally welcome to leave and get back to his family.

“I’d rather stay here, if you want me to,” Alec said, cutting his gaze across to Magnus quickly before dropping it back to where he was putting away the remainder of the food, despite Magnus’ protests. “It seems lonely to spend Christmas evening on your own.”

“Thank you,” Magnus managed, while his heart twisted at the kindness of Alec’s gesture. “You’re a sweet man, Alexander.”

Red stained the tops of Alec’s cheeks, and Magnus watched in masochistic fascination as he ducked his head and smiled down at the countertop. A murmured thanks left his lips, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Do you have time to watch a film?” Magnus asked, because, god help him, he couldn’t keep thinking about having made Alexander blush.

“Sure.” Alec headed towards the sofa Magnus had seated himself on. “What are we watching?”

They ended up with The Polar Express playing across the screen, because Magnus had watched Home Alone with Ragnor too many times (Ragnor pretended to despise it, so of course Magnus had to put it on every single year) and Alec vetoed How the Grinch Stole Christmas because, apparently, he lacked any sort of good taste in Christmas films.

Halfway through, Magnus found himself yawning, eyelids feeling abruptly heavy. His week had felt immeasurably long, and, finally, it seemed to be catching up on him.

“Do you want me to go?”

Alec’s voice was low, and he watched Magnus with a gentle sort of intensity in his eyes. It made Magnus feel noticed. People didn’t notice each other enough, in his opinion. They didn’t notice such obvious things that were right under their noses, or, if they did, they chose to remain tactfully silent. Alec didn’t. He noticed.

“No,” Magnus said, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes. “But I might fall asleep in the next five minutes, so maybe you should.”

Alec’s lips quirked, gaze flitting to a slightly odd point on Magnus’ face, and Magnus frowned at him.

“What? What is it?”

“Nothing at all,” Alec said. “You just smudged your eyeliner a bit.”

“Oops.” Magnus’ mouth lifted at the corners. “Definitely time I went to bed. I’ll show you out.”

“No, it’s okay. Stay there. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course. I’ll be around to beat you all at Monopoly again.”

Alec’s eyes lit up with amusement and glinted with the sharp edges of competition, and Magnus decided that it probably said something terrible about his psychological state that he found Alec’s competitive streak so attractive.

“You mean cheat at Monopoly.”

“Lies! You just can’t admit that I’m better than you.”

Alec smirked at him. “Izzy and I are going to gang up on you tomorrow. You’d better be prepared to lose, Bane.”

Magnus grinned. “Challenge accepted, Lightwood.”

When Alec leant in to give him a hug, arms firm around his shoulders and chest pressed close up to his, Magnus felt like he might combust.

  
It was only after Alec left with a bright smile and a stupid little wave that sent a rush of fondness coursing through Magnus’ chest that he realised how very close that conversation had been to flirting. He flirted with people all the time, in a fun, friendly sort of way, but did Alec?

No. It was too late to be thinking about any of that. He’d see Alec tomorrow, and give him the damn present, and they’d have some awful, awkward conversation about it, and then he could lay the whole thing to rest.

Come the New Year, Magnus would be a brand new man, entirely contented in his singledom and freed of any lingering feelings he still had for one Alexander Lightwood.

***

By the time Magnus arrived at Isabelle and Simon’s apartment the following morning, having allowed himself a lie-in after his taxing day at work the day before, the festivities were already in full, alcoholic swing.

Simon opened the door wearing a Santa hat, grinning from ear to ear, and immediately pressed a glass of mulled wine into Magnus’ hand, before yanking him inside and informing him that they had enough food to feed seventeen thousand hungry schoolchildren, and that they had to eat all of it by the time everyone left in the evening.

“So don’t be stingy!” He clapped Magnus on the back. “And no, Alec hasn’t got here yet.”

Magnus shot him a suspicious look, eyebrows pulling together in a frown. “I didn’t ask about Alexander.”

“You always ask about _Alexander_. He always asks about you. It’s very annoying. And very unsubtle. Honestly, both of you—”

“Okay, Simon!” Isabelle sashayed over, placing one hand firmly on Simon’s forearm with a fond roll of her eyes. “We’ve got it. Magnus gets it. You’ve had too much to drink considering it’s not even lunchtime. Pull yourself together before Alec turns up.”

Simon shot her a glare that held absolutely no heat. “I was scared of Alec five years ago, but you can’t use him to intimidate me anymore. I’m way more scared of disappointing you than him.”

Smiling, Isabelle leant in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, Si, but we both know you’re still scared of Alec. Although you don’t need to be. He likes you.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it.” Simon folded his arms across his chest. “He doesn’t smile at me. How am I supposed to know he likes me?”

“Alec doesn’t smile at anyone. He’s a grumpy bugger. He’s like an old man trapped in a young body.”

Magnus thought about the bright, easy smile that had been on Alec’s face when he’d left Magnus’ apartment last night, and then promptly decided that that was a terrible train of thought to entertain. He wasn’t going to read into anything. It was pointless. He’d done it before, and it had never ended well. He’d already tried this with Alec. He wasn’t going to do it again.

Well. He was. Once more. Properly, and obviously, in a classy way that would be between him and Alec and that nobody else would understand (he hoped) but not in the way he had before.

Of course, because the world hated Magnus, Alec chose that moment to appear at Simon and Isabelle’s front door, a box of Magnus’ favourite chocolates in hand, looking unfairly handsome in a blue Christmas sweater covered in little white reindeer and a faded pair of grey jeans. He looked relaxed as he teased Jace and shot Raphael that stupid little closed-lip smirk. Magnus wondered why it was that some people just got to him. How had Alexander managed to infuriate Magnus so thoroughly in ways nobody else ever had?

“Stop staring,” Catarina muttered in his ear as she passed by. “You’re not subtle.”

Magnus scoffed. “I am very subtle, thank you very much, and— Hold on. What are you talking about?”

Catarina rolled her eyes so hard Magnus felt mildly concerned that she’d give herself a headache. “Don’t play dumb, Bane. I’ve know you since we were fourteen. Don’t think you ever manage to hide anything from me.”

Magnus pressed his lips together and absolutely, certainly did not pout at her. “I don’t think I like you very much.”

“Shut up and get drunk like the rest of us,” she said firmly, and clicked her glass pointedly against his. “It’s good for you.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what they taught us at medical school,” he said, but he took a long swig anyway before he walked over to Alec.

Alec was gesturing with his hands in the way he did when he got passionate or excited about something, eyes impossibly earnest as he talked to Jace and Clary, who were both nodding enthusiastically. Magnus didn’t particularly expect Alec to notice him, but, the moment he walked up to stand beside Clary, Alec faltered in whatever he was saying, and turned his gaze on Magnus.

“Hey,” he said, and smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Magnus echoed, and wondered why, despite the steadfast lack of Christianity in the room (Simon was Jewish, of course, and the rest of them had as much religious faith as they did faith in the the current orange-faced president) they still greeted each other with what was, for them, such a decidedly empty phrase.

More alcohol. Magnus needed more alcohol.

“Magnus?”

Magnus blinked himself out of his reverie at the sound of Clary’s voice, and shook his head to dispel his thoughts before refocusing his attention on the conversation. Not that there was conversation anymore. Catarina, Clary, Jace and Alec were all watching him with furrowed brows.

“Sorry,” he said. “Confusing case yesterday. Can’t get it out of my head. What were you saying, biscuit?”

Waving a hand to dismiss his apology with a bright smile, Clary backtracked and began to retell the story of Isabelle and Simon’s planned trip to Paris—which did, admittedly, sound exceedingly romantic.

As she spoke, however, he could feel Alec’s gaze flitting back to him, over and over. When Magnus glanced back, he saw Alec with his lips pressed together and an arch to his eyebrows that screamed his suspicion to the world. It was a little disappointing. Magnus had always considered himself a decent actor, but Alec always seemed to see through his every minor falsehood.

As a doctor, he was probably supposed to be less accustomed to lying. Although, as the vast majority of his patients were dead, Magnus had always considered that a bit of a moot point. Alexander, of course, was the absolute epitome of honesty. That was probably why he was so irritatingly good at sniffing it out when Magnus was bullshitting him.

By the time Magnus had indulged himself in several drinks, Isabelle had decided that it was time they opened their secret santa gifts. Deliberately, Magnus sat himself on the floor three spaces along from Alec. Far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to see Alec’s reactions from the corner of his eye, but not so far away that they were opposite each other.

“Oh, I know who wrapped this,” Isabelle said, grinning to herself as she picked up a beautifully wrapped, triangular-shaped package from the floor. “It’s for...Simon!”

As Simon tore into his gift, he shot Clary a grin. She stuck her tongue out at him, unashamed at having been revealed so quickly, and watched from her spot beneath Jace’s arm.

Magnus was ninety percent sure he was just imagining things as, when they got around the circle to Alec, their friends all seemed to quiet in their chatter and shift forwards in their seats just a little.

It was his imagination. He was self-projecting his anxieties.

“Description!” Jace shouted from across the circle, unnecessarily loudly.

Alec rolled his eyes. “Small and heavy. You’re two metres away from me, Jace, you can see what it is.”

Jace glared. “You’re no fun.”

Alec chose to ignore his brother’s remark, and instead began to carefully tear the blue-silver paper off. Magnus saw the moment he realised what it was, his expression going from puzzled at the odd shape, to amusedly pleased, to faintly shocked. The shock won out for several long, heavy seconds that seemed to drag out into an endless eternity of damning silence. Then something soft tugged at the edges of his face, and his lips melted into an endearingly gentle smile.

“It’s beautiful,” Alec said, turning the snow globe over in his hands reverently. His eyes flickered down to the post-it note Magnus had stuck on the bottom ( _version 2.0 for 32 year old you_ ) and he let out a little laugh. “Thank you.”

Magnus didn’t know whether Isabelle or Jace would know the significance of the snow globe, and he couldn’t quite tell from looking at them. There was something odd playing across all his friend’s faces - all apart from Alec - that Magnus didn’t quite understand.

Alec studied the snow globe for a moment longer, shaking it gently to make white flutter down across the two figurines skating across the glistening lake, hand in hand. The intricacies, right down to the little birds settled on the bare tree branches overhanging the lake, had been what first caught Magnus’ eye; the particular detail he was waiting for Alec to see was what had made him buy it.

The figurines in the globe were two men, their tiny little hands held together, and, surely, Alec knew what Magnus meant by that. He had to.

Abruptly, the smile dropped from Alec’s face and his eyes snapped up, flying straight to Magnus. Magnus swallowed, determined to hold his gaze. That answered Magnus’ question, at least. Clearly, Alec knew exactly what the gift in his hands meant.

Someone cleared their throat pointedly, and Simon said, a little awkwardly, “So, any guesses as to who it’s from?”

“I know who it’s from,” Alec said, voice level. He dropped his eyes back down and set the globe down on the floor in front of him, nestled in the wrapping paper. “Ragnor, I think it’s your turn.”

Fuck. What the hell was Magnus supposed to make of that reaction?

Alec didn’t meet his gaze again as Ragnor, and then Raphael, both opened their gifts. Raphael, in lieu of verbally guessing his gifter, threw the t-shirt at Jace’s head (which read  _I must be a vampire because I really suck_ ), rolling his eyes and laughing despite himself.

When it came to his turn, Isabelle slid Magnus’ present across the circle with a gleam in her eye that made Magnus distinctly nervous. The size of it made Magnus immediately suspicious, and, sure enough, he ripped off the paper to uncover the eye-catching artwork of The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust printed across the front of a second hand - but nonetheless well-kept - vinyl.

On top, Magnus’ gifter had written on a scrap of paper _I'm an absolute beginner but I'm absolutely sane_. And, if Magnus hadn’t already realised that it was from Alec, the handwriting was a dead giveaway. What made him look over and stare at Alec, however, was the way he knew the rest of that song went.

_I absolutely love you._

Surely, surely Alec couldn’t mean...?

Alec had gifted him a vinyl, having been to his apartment and discussed what Magnus’ vinyl collection meant to him. Alec had gifted him a David Bowie vinyl, knowing full well how much Magnus adored and admired him. Alec had written him a note with the lyrics of a love song scrawled on it.

Alec was watching him with dark, heavy eyes, and Magnus didn’t have a fucking clue what that look meant.

He didn’t realise that an uncomfortable silence thick with tension had fallen in the room until he turned his gaze to the rest of their friends, and found them all glancing between him and Alec like they were watching a tennis match.

They knew, Magnus realised. Somehow, they knew—

They’d rigged the secret santa. Of course they had.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus said quietly, rising to his feet. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

And, ignoring the worried looks that flitted across his friend’s faces, Magnus side-stepped the mess on the floor and pulled open Simon and Isabelle’s front door, heading straight out into the cold.

***

A sharp exhale ripped its way out of Magnus’ throat as he tumbled outside, heart pounding and thoughts clattering through his mind faster than he knew how to keep up with.

It wasn’t that he was particularly upset about his friends manipulating the secret santa. Meddling on such a small degree was hardly something he would get angry about. It was—

What? What was it, exactly?

The sound of the door clicking open and then slamming shut drew Magnus promptly out of his head. He glanced up, expecting to see Catarina, or Ragnor, or perhaps even Isabelle. Instead, the achingly familiar sight of hazel eyes, long limbs and messy black hair greeted him. Alec wore a worried expression on his beautiful face, and he hesitated on the steps leading down to the street where Magnus had stopped.  
He had Magnus’ coat slung over his arm, but he didn’t make any move to give it to him.

For a moment, they watched each other warily, neither willing to be the first to break the silence. Then Magnus dropped his gaze to the snowy floor, and Alec spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding so painfully sincere that it made Magnus jerk his head up. “I didn’t— I didn’t think it through. I just did it.”

Magnus let out a short huff of a laugh, and shook his head. “Neither did I. I hoped you’d understand, and I tried to rationalise my actions to myself a hundred times, but really I was justifying impulse.”

Alec’s lips curled up. “I understood as soon as I realised that the figurines were men.”

“Did you mean it?”

Alec arched an eyebrow. “Mean what?”

“The song. _I’m an absolute beginner but I’m absolutely sane_.”

“Don’t you know how that song ends?” Alec asked, a smile of surprise flashing across his face.

Magnus loved the way Alec smiled - loved the way it made his eyes shine and the skin around them crinkle, and the sweet, lopsided curve of his mouth.

“ _As long as we’re together the rest can go to hell_ ,” Magnus said, eyes not straying from Alec’s. “ _I absolutely love you_.”

“Yes.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” A pause. “Do you?”

Magnus bit his lip. Hesitated. Then: “Yes.”

A breath escaped Alec, long and heavy and oddly uncertain, considering what they’d just confessed. More than anything, that reassured Magnus. Reassured him that he wasn’t the only one who felt confused by the evening’s events. Ecstatic excitement and giddy, lovesick joy would probably come later, but not yet.

“Why—” Alec cleared his throat. “Why now? Why not any other time? I mean...” He stopped. Pressed his lips together in frustration. Started again. “You’ve always told people exactly how you feel. Why not with me?”

Magnus’ lips quirked in wistful amusement. “Darling, I think my heart sealed its fate the night I met you. I didn’t exactly shy away from flirting with you then. Until you introduced me to your boyfriend. And then you broke up, and it seemed terrible taste to say anything, and then I met someone else without ever quite meaning to, and...” Magnus shrugged. “The timing never really seemed right. And I thought I’d made my feelings quite clear the night we got drunk together a couple of years ago. You just never said anything afterwards.”

“You...” Alec’s brow furrowed. “You were talking about me?”

“Of course I was talking about you! How many hot doctor friends do you think I have to wax poetic about?”

“Having been to your workplace, quite a few.”

Alec grinned at him, and something in Magnus’ chest coiled tight and ready to spring loosened enough for him to grin back. That was what he’d always had with Alexander. An ease. A lack of any expected decorum or verbal filter. They just said things.

Well. Except, arguably, the most important thing.

Magnus’ grin faded, and he took a step closer to Alec, the snow crunching beneath his boots. “I was talking about you. I haven’t been pining after you since the day we met, I’m not that pathetic, you’ve just always...been there. In the back of my mind. I’d resigned myself to the fact that you didn’t feel the same way. When I pulled your name out of that hat, I think I knew that whatever I gave you as a gift would inevitably have a piece of my heart in it too.”

Alec smiled, small and soft and impossibly fond, and Magnus’ heart stuttered in his chest at being bestowed with such a look.

“My date was a disaster the other night far more because I couldn’t stop thinking about you than because he was a dick,” Alec confessed, moving closer, so they were close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss. “When we first met, in my mind it was just a fact of life that you were out of my league. By the time I realised that I was enough as I was, it seemed too late.”

Magnus sighed. “God, we’re fools.”

“Thank god Simon rigged the secret santa,” Alec agreed.

Magnus made a noise of surprise. “Simon?”

“He confessed after you left. I don’t know how he did it, but I’m going to demand answers when we go back inside.”

“Hm.” Magnus couldn’t help the way his eyes flitted down to Alec’s lips. He looked back up, batting his eyelashes with faux innocence. “Is that going to be now?”

“Oh, hell no,” Alec said, and dipped his head to catch Magnus’ mouth in a soft, certain kiss.

Snow crunched beneath Magnus’ boots as he rocked forward, leaning into the press of Alec’s mouth, first with base instinct, then surprise, and then desire. He reached up to curl his hand around the back of Alec’s neck to draw him in closer, angling their heads better, and pressed his other hand against Alec’s chest, feeling the heat of Alec’s body envelop him.

Fingertips snaked around his waist, and Magnus let Alec drag him in with one palm pressed against the small of his back and two fingers hooked through a belt loop. It was a little uncoordinated, a little messy, and Magnus could feel the buttons on his coat digging into his side where Alec was still holding it, but it was fucking perfect. Alec’s lips were on his, soft and warm and eager without being pushy, and god, Magnus had wanted this since forever.

They broke apart with a quiet sound, the blanket of snow muffling the world around them to near-silence. For a moment, their foreheads rested together, Alec’s hair brushing his skin while Magnus kept his eyes closed, lingering in the sensation of Alec’s touch.

He opened his eyes to a new, beautiful world that was, somehow, exactly the same as the one he’d left. Alec’s face smiled down at him, a pleased, bashful look shimmering in those gorgeous hazel eyes. Fuck, Magnus just wanted to haul him back in and kiss the ever-loving daylights out of him. He wanted to exacerbate that tempting pink flush until he could be certain that it was him, and not the cold, that had caused it.

(Later, he wanted to make Alec moan, and map every damn inch of him with the pads of his fingertips and then with his lips. He wanted to press Alec back into the bedsheets and watch those long eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones. He wanted to make Alec’s toes curl.)

(But later. Much later.)

“I think,” Alec breathed, lips twitching in a painfully tempting manner as he appeared to battle a ridiculous smile as it attempted to overtake his face, “that I would like to try that again. For practise. Science.”

A startled laugh slipped from Magnus, because, of all the things he’d expected Alec to say, that certainly hadn’t been it.

“Science,” he agreed, curling his fingers in the front of Alec’s jacket.

Their second kiss was closer, neater, deeper, and it made Magnus’ knees feel weak. An embarrassing noise emanated from somewhere in the back of his throat, but, judging by the resulting nip of Alec’s teeth on his lower lip, the man in his arms didn’t mind too much.

An abrupt gust of wind shot through the street. Magnus broke their kiss in surprise and shivered. Goosebumps rose across the exposed skin of his forearms and chest and neck, and Alec made a soft sound of disapproval.

“I almost forgot why I came out here,” Alec said, and, to Magnus’ immense displeasure, let go of where his hand had migrated from his jeans to his hip. “Here.”

Magnus took the coat - his coat - that Alec had slung over his elbow and shrugged it on gratefully.

“And here I was thinking you were out here to kiss me,” Magnus joked. “Thank you.”

Alec smiled. “I’m not conceited enough to think that that was a given. You being cold, though, out in some flimsy shirt in December when it’s snowing...” He shook his head, fond despair in his eyes. “The coat seemed pretty likely to be needed.”

“Mm. Good judgement.”

Magnus tugged the coat more firmly around him, settling it properly on his shoulders, and then rested both hands on Alec’s shoulders. He let them slip down, over strong biceps and defined forearms, until his fingers tangled with Alec’s. Callouses on Alec’s palms rubbed lightly against Magnus’ skin, and Alec’s hands were bare where Magnus’ were decorated with rings and bracelets. Something about the sensation of holding Alec’s hands made every restless anxiety and whirring stress in Magnus’ mind still to a state of harmlessness.

“You’re cold,” Alec murmured, stroking his thumbs back and forth across Magnus’ hands.

A plethora of flirtatious lines came to mind. Responses Magnus would have given to anyone else he’d ever dated or had a fling with. Responses that, at another time, in another place, he’d probably have given Alec. But not then.

“A bit,” he admitted instead. “I didn’t really think about whether or not I’d be warm enough when I made my dramatic exit.”

Alec laughed, and tugged Magnus closer. He let go with one hand to wrap his arm around Magnus’ waist, and Magnus couldn’t help but marvel at how easy this was. An hour ago, they’d simply been friends, their relationship doomed - in Magnus’ mind, at least - to remain eternally platonic. Touching Alec like this, being touched by Alec like this, intimately, shouldn’t have felt so natural.

“Do you want to go back inside?” Alec asked, voice low and eyes dark in the moonlight.

Magnus let out a hum, and tilted his face up towards Alec’s. “Maybe in a moment.”

Their noses brushed, and Magnus let his eyes fluttered closed. Warm breaths hit his face, and Alec’s fingers pressed firmly into the small of his back, and he felt the tickle of Alec’s eyelashes against his face when he tilted his head slightly to rub the cold tip of his nose against Alec’s.

“Are you going to kiss me again?”

Magnus’ lips curled up at the question, and he lifted a hand to the back of Alec’s head, fingering the soft strands of hair. “As many times as you’ll let me. But later.”

Alec pulled back far enough to look at Magnus, and arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mm. I’m slightly desperate to know how and why the sanctity of secret santa was ruined by our friends.”

“Oh.” Alec grinned. “Yeah, me too.”

“Shall we go in, then?”

“I guess so.” Alec licked his lips as they began to disentangle themselves, holding fast to each other’s hand. “And Magnus?”

“Yeah?”

“You can kiss me as many times as you want to.”

***

When they stepped back inside, Magnus shivering at the rush of warm air that enveloped him, it was to the sight of their friends sitting with their heads bent together, talking in hushed, anxious voices. Alec tapped Magnus’ arm and held a finger to his own lips, amusement sparking in his eyes.

“Do you think they’re being weird and awkward?” Jace asked, and Magnus had to exercise heroic self control not to open his mouth and tell Jace that they were neither weird nor awkward, thank you very much. And if Magnus was weird, it was only because he enjoyed looking at dead people’s brains for a living.

“No, they’re probably kissing,” Raphael said, sounding mildly revolted.

Clary shook her head. “You’re both wrong. They’re standing by the door watching us gossip about them.”

Every head swivelled towards them at Clary’s words. Magnus held up his hand and wiggled his fingers at them in greeting. None of them spoke, instead choosing to stare at Magnus and Alec as though they hadn’t been in there with them no more than fifteen minutes ago.

“Oh, shut your bloody mouths,” Ragnor said irritably. “You all look like goldfish.”

Magnus choked on a laugh at the affronted looks the rest of his friends shot Ragnor.

“He’s right,” he said. “You do.”

“Yeah, but more importantly–” Jace pointed between Alec and Magnus “–have you two _finally_ got your heads out of your asses?”

“If what you’re asking is whether or not we spent the last fifteen minutes making out,” Alec said, rolling his eyes as he crossed the room to sit back down, “then that’s none of your business.”

“But yes,” Magnus added, and immediately regretted it for the cacophony of noise that suddenly came from his circle of friends. Alec winced visibly from his position beside Jace.

When their friends had finished behaving like idiots, Magnus rejoined the circle, seating himself beside Alec. Alec threw him a smile, bright and warm and easy, and Magnus’ heart twisted in his chest. An ache of sheer joy spread through his chest, and he had to take a deep breath to contain it all.

“Ugh.” Raphael wrinkled his nose. “Simon, what have you done? Look at them.”

Ragnor elbowed Raphael lightly, shaking his head. “Don’t be an arse, Raphael. Think about the relief we can all experience now we don’t have to listen to their persistent pining.”

“It was intermittent,” Magnus corrected him. “Not persistent.”

Ragnor levelled him with a distinctly unimpressed look. “It was still persistent. And we’re still free of it now.”

“I want to know how you did it,” Alec said, ignoring them all, like the mature adult he was.

Simon looked mildly embarrassed as everyone’s attention turned to him. Of course Simon had been the mastermind. He was the person Magnus would suspect of trying to play match-maker the least—which made him the perfect candidate.

“It was pretty simple.” Simon shrugged. “When I folded up all the bits of paper, the only names in there were Alec, and one Magnus. Everyone picked a name, and if they picked the Magnus one they pretended they’d pulled out their own name and put it back to get an Alec one. Then I made sure that I started in the circle so that Alec would pick second to last, so there was just Magnus and Alec left. Then he’d only be able to pick himself, in which case he’d put it back, or Magnus, in which case–” he held his hands out, palms forward “–mission accomplished. We did our own one behind your backs the next day.”

“That’s so sneaky,” Magnus said, voice full of admiration. “I’m genuinely impressed. Was that your idea?”

“Um, yes?” Simon shot Alec a worried look. “But I wasn’t trying to interfere! I just thought– You know—”

“Simon, it’s fine,” Alec said, voice warm with amusement for his soon-to-be brother-in-law. “You rigged present-buying. We’re the ones who decided to get sappy about it.”

Simon looked ridiculously relieved. “Yeah, exactly. And look how well it turned out!” He frowned a little as his eyes flickered between them. They were sitting with their knees and shoulders touching, but otherwise weren’t making a scene. “Although, you sort of look like you always do.”

Isabelle snorted. “Babe, that’s because they’ve always looked halfway to in love.”

“Yes, thank you, Iz,” Alec said, rolling his eyes and letting out a long suffering sigh that made Magnus grin.

“I blame your boyfriend,” Isabelle said. “I don’t even remember his name. The one you had when you and Magnus met. If he’d fucked off sooner, none of this would have happened. Although, the way you two were flirting over neurons, you’d probably have hooked up at my party.” She pulled a face. “God, Cat, please pass me the alcohol before I vomit at that mental image.”

Catarina obliged, and looked over at Magnus and Alec with a gentle look on her face. “For what it’s worth, I’m very happy for you. Although I will castrate you both if you do anything stupid. For Simon’s sake, of course, because his plan was fantastic and deserves to reap the rewards.”

Magnus glanced over at Alec, and found that Alec was already gazing at him, lips turned up and fondness shining in his eyes. Alec flipped his hand over, resting it across their knees, palm open in offering.

Unthinkingly, Magnus mirrored Alec’s smile, and slid his fingers through Alec’s. Gaze unwavering, he said, “We’ll do our best.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you reading!! I really hope you enjoyed it. It would be lovely to know what you thought - drop me a comment, or you can find me on [Tumblr](http://notcrypticbutcoy.tumblr.com) or on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/lucysrebelheart?lang=en)
> 
> If Christmas is your thing (religiously or just for the food, like me) then I hope you have a fabulously merry Christmas!! If you celebrate other holidays during this time, then happy holidays!! If not, then just have a wonderful week! Enjoy how empty everything is! <3
> 
> All the love,  
> Lu <3


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